


New Year’s Eve When She’s Still An Ocean Away

by orochisInebriation (asterCrash)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 22:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7241305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asterCrash/pseuds/orochisInebriation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Kanaya continues her education abroad, a video call is the only way to celebrate New Year's Eve with her girlfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Year’s Eve When She’s Still An Ocean Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [masswisteria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/masswisteria/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Valentine's Day When Your Flighty Broad is Studying Abroad](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5996886) by [masswisteria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/masswisteria/pseuds/masswisteria). 



Kanaya beat the rooster awake by a good few hours yet, winter mornings be damned. The feathered fiend was likely slumbering peacefully in the midst of his plush hen house and here she was shivering in the dark as her laptop powered up. The comforter around her shoulders was not so much warmth as it was a reminder of the softness of the bed she’d forsaken to be awake and about. As the old machine huffed and puffed its way back to life, Kanaya could see that the time was just a few minutes before midnight, before it corrected itself to the local timezone and produced the reading of 5:47am.

“Fuck,” she swore to herself when she realised how little time she had to get ready. She hastened over to her bags and retrieved her makeup kit and got to work, smoothing foundation and applying eyeliner as quickly as she could while the clock ticked down. Her eyelashes were primped and her lipstick applied (black, Rose adores the black), she did what she could for her hair but the bedhead was nigh undefeatable. She would have to make it look stylish with what little attitude she possessed, though she thanked her lucky stars she was a designer and not one of the poor models dressed up in one of her atrocities.

Dawn’s light had yet to grace the fields of the rural French farm she was being hosted in, though snow was surely piled high outside if the weather of the last week had continued. She’d imagined a location so far south to be somewhat more temperate, even in the dead of winter, which went to show exactly what she knew about the climate. It only added virtue to her journey, seeing the sights and meeting the people and stuttering her way through (her French was far too _parisien_ for some of the local _provençal_ speakers), she was hoping to pick up new inspirations for her graduate work, something to really astound them. So far all of her designs were the same tired snowflake motifs though, with the occasional hint of the hardy fabrics favoured by the farmers out here. Whatever, there was plenty of time for designs later, for now, the clock on her computer showed 5:55am and she had better get online in time to speak with Rose. She then remembered that because that fork-tongued-devil set her computer up the system clock was two minutes slow.

“Fuck,” she swore again, as she booted up Trollian and searched for Rose’s name. The little grey icon to the left of her handle indicated that she was offline, which struck Kanaya as odd, as this was the very time they had agreed to meet. She checked her wifi and confirmed the problem: shitty internet. The little wireless icon indicated a grand total of zero bars, which, in order to rectify, she would need to run from the cottage she’d been granted through the snow to the main house to fiddle with the router in the hope it would solve her problems. By which time she’d have missed her appointment with Rose and everything would be ruined.

“Please,” she begged the little wireless icon. “Pretty please,” still it remained blank. “S’il vous plaît,” no response. She scrunched her face up and fought tears. It was a silly thing, certainly, but she’d been apart from Rose for so long and the distance was starting to wear at her. That, and it was still very early and very cold and she just wanted to tell her girlfriend she loved her. “Se vos plai,” she begged once more. The wireless icon on her computer showed one bar and Rose’s user icon lit up green. If she had have been any farther from the laptop Kanaya would have dived to open the chat window. Dispensing with the formalities she opened up a webcam session immediately.

Rose’s screen showed black, as it always did when connection was being established, giving Kanaya time to assess her own appearance. Her hair looked surprisingly fantastic, and the stylish asymmetrical coat she’d picked up one town over neatly concealed the fact that she was still in her sleeping clothes beneath it. Her makeup would appear immaculate at this distance, regardless of whether she had smudged her right eye, and the glisten of almost-tears in her eyes could be forgiven for a trick of the light.

Rose swam into vision as her side of the screen finally lit up, she was dressed in the exact outfit Kanaya had posted her eagerly on her birthday. The orange gown hugged Rose’s curves beautifully and Kanaya scored herself a point for knowing her girlfriend’s exact measurements no matter the distance between them. 

“She’s here!” Rose called out, and hoisted the camera above her head such that the rest of the party came into focus. A cheer went up from the crowd, which Kanaya could see consisted of most of their mutual friends gathered on the front lawn of Rose’s home, around the traditional rotting Christmas tree that the Lalondes would refuse to throw out until well into July. She could see Dave with his arms around Karkat and a skew to his glasses that said that he’d almost certainly just been kissed, John with an arm around Terezi’s waist and Terezi with a hand decidedly further south behind John and the other hand in more or less the same position on Vriska.

“I apologise for the delay in connecting,” said Kanaya, “I hope I have not arrived too late for the countdown?”

“Your tardiness is noted,” Rose stuck her tongue out at the camera, and someone behind her insinuated Kanaya had been too busy fussing with her makeup to get her stylish rear online. “You have arrived without a minute to spare. Literally, we’re about to go. Anything you wanted to say before the year ends?”

“TEN,” John’s chant came through the laptop speakers loud and tinny.

“Only that I’m no less in love with you than the day we first met.”

“You say that every year,” Rose replied, just as the countdown finished and Mrs. Lalonde’s most-definitely-not-legal fireworks shot off into the sky.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR,” the cheer went up from the group. Kanaya could not see the blossoms of fire through the camera, but she could see the flashes of light illuminating the group as Terezi swept John off his feet and bent him down into a dip for the traditional kiss. Vriska, desiring not to be without a partner for the first kiss of the new year, made a dive for Dave’s face. Karkat screamed.

Rose blew a kiss at the camera and Kanaya blew one back, as close as they would get for the next few months but still it brought warmth to Kanaya’s cold, cold body that her girlfriend had turned away from the party that she threw just to stay online for her.

“Bonna annada, t’aimi,” she whispered into the microphone, hopefully loud enough to be heard almost four thousand miles away.

“Was that French?” Rose replied in a confused tone.

“Sort of,” replied Kanaya, “it means the obvious thing, in this context.”

“Oh,” said Rose, with a grin, “in that case, happy new year, I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Translators notes:  
> There is a dialect in the south of France referred to as _provençal_ that the French government has mostly tried to bury in this interests of "linguistic purity".  
>  I thought it would be cute if the wifi only worked if Kanaya asked it pretty please in the proper dialect, which is why her french might not be translatable if y'all have only ever heard _parisien_.


End file.
